


synchrony

by TripsH



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TripsH/pseuds/TripsH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima Shintarou is an unreachable beacon of light Takao vows to surpass one day. But when they’re suddenly declared drift compatible, the game changes. Completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	synchrony

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fill for saso. It's my first time writing midotaka, but I love them so so much and when I saw a prompt for pacrim au I had to attempt. 
> 
> It got out of control, per the usual, of course.

The first time Takao sees Midorima Shintarou in person is across the mat in the Kwoon Room, holding a staff under the watchful eyes of their superior officers—clipboards in hand, watching their every move.   
  
(This is not the first time he has seen Midorima. He is not going into this test blind.)   
  
Everyone knows of the Generation of Miracles, the prodigy Jaeger pilots everyone in the Program aspires to be like.   
  
Everyone knows how their teams crumbled, and were no longer drift compatible. Knows of the sudden and utmost important task of finding some of the best Jaeger pilots in the world, the untouchable prodigies, new copilots so that the world may not be 'completely doomed without them.'   
  
(Senior officer’s words, not Takao’s own.)   
  
The fluorescent lights burning down on them in this room now shine brightly like some sort of spotlight. Takao looks at Midorima, remembers with complete clarity the first time he had seen him on television after a successful mission that shoots the Miracles' hero status even higher.  
  
Takao is young, then. Sixteen, eager. A new recruit to the Jaeger Academy. Without a partner, but ready to find one and prove his worth to the world.   
  
Even though Takao hadn’t known Midorima personally back then, he had always felt some weird and unexplainable sort of pull and intrigue—a draw to him—especially the first time he had watched Midorima push up the glasses on his nose with taped fingers and utter obscure responses to the reporter about luck and fate, and the even more obscure ‘lucky items’ he often is seen with.   
  
Standing across from him now, Takao is almost a little skeptical that this is one of six who had seemed so out of reach because he doesn’t look nearly as special as everyone makes the Miracles out to be. He looks normal. Reachable.   
  
(Midorima is a goal, though. Takao, lips curled into a confident and determined smirk, makes that unspoken promise to himself one day when a group of fellow trainees gathered around the television, murmuring and whispering about the most recent coverage of another successful mission.)   
  
Takao, young, eager, and ready to show the world who he is, vows to reach that same level one day. To be equal with him and the rest of the Miracles. To shine as brightly.  
  
Although, testing for drift compatibility with Midorima Shintarou is the last way he expects to obtain that.   
  
He’ll make it work, though. That’s what he does. He’ll make Midorima acknowledge him as an equal instead. It's just as good, anyway.  
  
“Ready when you are, Shin-chan.”   
  
Midorima, for a brief second, seems taken aback by the grin on Takao’s lips, the mischievous glint in his eyes, before scoffing, straightening up and gripping the staff tightly. Takao vaguely notices the signature tape on his left hand. “Don’t call me that.”   
  
(For a moment, it feels like the unbreakable wall constructed of rumors and hero worship has cracked, like a door has been opened for Takao that few others have been beyond. It’s as if they’re on equal footing rather than Midorima placed on a pedestal like he has been, revered and an example to everyone who aspires to reach that high.)   
  
_It feels right,_  he thinks when the hushed whispers in the room die down, when it feels like it’s just them, the center of the universe, when a very unexpected future begins with one simple step toward each other. 

 

…

  
Midorima seems skeptical and distant at first, especially when they’re declared drift compatible. He almost seems like he doesn’t want to be, like whatever happened to him previously is preventing him from moving forward.   
  
But Takao doesn’t forget the flash of surprise in his eyes, the determined curl of his lips when Takao stood over him in the Kwoon Room, staff pointed at Midorima’s shoulder, grinning triumphantly. That proves that whatever happened won't hold Midorima down for long.   
  
Apparently, their compatibility scores are quite something, earns them stares and whispers and quick yet clearly excited scratches of pens against paper by those watching them. The tests don’t lie, so they’re told they’ll be drifting in a few days, and that’s that. No choice in the matter.   
  
The excitement yet slight fear of the uncertainty of it all builds in Takao’s chest over the next few days. Midorima, the one he has so desperately wanted to surpass, will suddenly become his partner.   
  
“Hey, Shin-chan?”   
  
Midorima sighs, setting down the book he had been reading, eyes meeting Takao’s as the other hangs upside down over his own bunk to see Midorima sitting on his own bed. “Yes, Takao?”   
  
The slight exasperation, ever so common and obvious in Midorima’s eyes and the visible frown on his lips, does nothing to deter Takao. He welcomes it, almost. It’s a challenge with a win-win result—get Midorima comically (but not truly) exasperated, or try to make him smile.   
  
Takao’s always liked challenges. It’s why he’s here.   
  
He asks Midorima questions about himself because he’s genuinely curious, but also wants to fill the quiet between them with something, anything.   
  
Midorima indulges, answers for a little bit, explaining to Takao his reliance on fate, but then visibly tenses at some of questions, his fingers curling tighter around the book as he looks anywhere but Takao’s face.   
  
“That doesn’t matter,” he finally says, ending the game right then and there. There’s a slight pause before the quiet murmur of, “You’ll find out in the drift anyway.”   
  
There are no secrets in the drift, everyone says. Takao is a little hesitant to share that experience with someone, to have them know all of him, maybe even parts that he hasn’t fully realized himself yet. Especially since that person is going to be Midorima.   
  
Tomorrow is it, though. Tomorrow is when they will drift for the first time.  
  
Tomorrow will be the start of it all. 

 

…

  
There’s no possible way to forget drifting with someone for the first time. It’s sharing all of yourself with your partner, giving everything you have, taking everything they give. Trusting someone you’ve barely met.   
  
The first few days after their first drift, images and scenes burned behind his eyes that don’t simply disappear even when he sleeps, constantly replay day and night as if they are his own memories as much as they are Midorima’s.   
  
A much smaller Midorima gripping a young girl—his sister’s—hand tightly as she cries for parents who won’t be coming home.   
  
The burn in his chest, ache of his muscles from practicing and practicing and practicing even more.   
  
The exhilaration of stepping into a Jaeger for the first time, firing precise and accurate shots to destroy kaiju after kaiju, vowing to not let them take from others what had been taken from him.   
  
The disconnect, the darkness, feeling alone in the final few battles with former partner, Akashi, when that disconnect had nearly resulted in the loss of their own lives and many of those in the city they were supposed to be protecting until they’re finally, just barely able to pull it together.  
  
  
Midorima too, experiences things that Takao has never shared with anyone before. The anger and desperation when his family had lost everything after a kaiju attack on their city, how he cried when his own sister—injured in the attack but unable to receive medical care in time due to the influx of injuries and frantic scramble to escape the destruction—died right before his eyes.   
  
The resolve to make himself into something, to be someone, and thus enrolling in the Jaeger Academy.   
  
The nightmares he still has, the fear that creeps up his spine, the flutter in his chest when he first sees Midorima on TV, completely untouchable after a kaiju kill, how he desires to be that.  
  
  
He feels the pain and loss, experiences the fear and anger, and burning desire in Midorima’s chest like it’s his own. Even though they’re memories and thoughts just acquired, they feel like they’ve been present his whole life, buried deep in his mind yet only blossoming now.   
  
  
The drift creates extensions of themselves, stretching past shared space between them and intertwining around each other. Unbreakable.   
  
Takao has only known Midorima, really known him beyond the untouchable celebrity on TV, for a few days, but suddenly it feels like Midorima is ever-present, someone who’s been by his side his whole life.   
  
In the dirft, he also feels Midorima's reservations to trust anyone, the fear of being anything less than perfect, of losing. Midorima clearly trusts in himself and the skills he has cultivated from the ground up with hard work and constant practice, he clearly trusted in his partner until once perfect compatibility began to crumble and missions went awry.   
  
The fear to open up to anyone, to tear down the carefully constructed walls around himself and lose because of that, is overpowering in Takao’s own mind. Reverberates from Midorima to himself, buries itself in Takao’s head and never truly leaves. He understands Midorima’s reluctance, can finally place the somewhat weary way he glances at Takao as soon as they’re first declared drift compatible like he’ll just be another casualty. Like he won’t last.   
  
(Takao will never be that, though. He will prove that to Midorima, to all of them, no matter what it takes.)  
  
It's a promise that, although meant for himself, Midorima feels too. 

…

  
They work well together. Midorima with his pinpoint accuracy and precision for shooting, Takao with his agility, quick wits, and adaptability. He is malleable, able to quickly bend and adjust to whatever is thrown at them, while Midorima capitalizes on openings and chances in order to secure victory.   
  
Midorima fights with certainty, every motion sure and something he trusts in. Takao’s spontaneity catches him off-guard sometimes, but they make it work. They always do. Takao creates the openings, and Midorima finishes it. It’s a synchrony most pairs can’t pull off with such precision. Not like they can.   
  
But it takes time to get to that level. Lots of time and working together and learning to trust each other. The first time they fight together, thrown out into battle even though it’s probably too early for it, Midorima flies through like he’s used to this. Like he’s done it so many times before and doesn’t need anyone or anything besides what he is already capable of. He gives off the vibe like he only needs a partner for formality’s sake, not for the reason of piloting and taking down kaiju together as a team.   
  
(But Takao knows despite the apathetic look on his face as they’re sent out, he can feel the combination of excitement and nerves almost overpowering as Takao’s mind screams to let them free. He knows Midorima shares the same sentiments, even if he doesn’t show them and outwardly scoffs at Takao’s excitement of being sent out to battle.)   
  
Their first fight, although successful, is somewhat of a disaster, though. They manage to kill the kaiju with ease, but everything between them feels wrong, not like it’s supposed to be.   
  
The fight feels almost one-sided—Midorima versus the world with Takao on the sidelines. Like Takao is there, but not fully because Midorima it’s as if Midorima is weary to trust the movements he makes or what he does, like he fears it and wants to do this on his own.   
  
Takao thinks he understands Midorima, knows that he does through the drift where words don’t need to be exchanged, where the muscle memory they’ve acquired through inherent instinct and natural chemistry as well as the little training they’ve done together thus far, where the headspace between them is enough to convey their thoughts.   
  
But it isn’t until then that he truly understands how deeply what had happened with his former teammates affected Midorima.   
  
Reflective of what Takao saw in the drift, he can feel Midorima’s reservations. There’s the fear that trusting someone, letting them in means he has less control and confidence in the situation. Letting someone in means there’s the possibility of losing them, of being responsible for what happens to them.   
  
(He suddenly remembers seeing that moment in the drift, the moment Midorima had broken. The way he stepped out of the Jaeger on shaky feet, breath ragged and heart pounding as it really and truly hits him that their mistakes made in that fight could have had severe consequences. That his teammates’ and his own power and subsequent arrogance could lead to even more disaster. The resolve to keep fighting and practicing on his own because he can trust himself, he knows with all of his practice he’ll be strong. He won’t let the pressure of being perfect and untouchable crack him again.  
  
Yet there’s still reluctance when he’s told he’s going to test for a new partner, fear when he’s told that Takao will be his.)   
  
_I can fight alone. I trust myself. That’s all I need._    
  
It’s a mantra, he later learns, that Midorima picked up in his days with the rest of the Miracles, when they were so strong that the teamwork that catapulted them to the top so quickly and succinctly shattered.  
  
It frustrates Takao. The anger crawls under his skin and if this was a simulation where death and danger were not realities, he’d tell Midorima exactly what he thinks about those thoughts.   
  
But there aren’t any secrets in the drift. Not really. And from the sudden slow in Midorima’s motions, the brief silence of the thoughts he had tried and failed to keep from Takao’s reach, Takao knows that he too, recognizes the frustrated and pent up anger behind Takao’s movements.   
  
_I’m right here. Trust me. You can’t put up walls like this. You don’t have to._  
  
_If you could kill a kaiju on your own, you wouldn’t need a partner._  
  
_I’m right here, Shin-chan._  
  
_I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere._  
  
_So trust me._

...

Takao never speaks his frustrations aloud, leaves them in the shared space between them in the drift, but he doesn’t really have to. After that, it seems like Midorima recognizes the words. He slowly doesn’t train alone as much, seems relieved that Takao sticks around and train with him.   
  
They fall into a steady routine of playful banter and working together, develop synchrony where they unconsciously brush against each other as they walk down the halls, where they’re sometimes reaching for the same thing as if they can read each other, where they don’t necessarily have to fill the quiet with words.   
  
They’re learning about each other, recognizing quirks and desires that lie beneath everything on the surface, knowing pieces of each other that no one else has the privilege to know. Slowly developing a stronger bond and trust with each other.   
  
Despite being partners for the better part of a year, Takao feels like everything truly clicks into place when they take out two kaiju—a category two and three—together.   
  
(“Do you trust me?” he asks, as he considers a risky move that they can either pull off beautifully or could completely fail.   
  
“Yes. Go,” Midorima replies without hesitation, without the same fear that had been present in their first drift, in their first fights.   
  
It’s the only confirmation Takao needs.)   
  
There’s no fear or reservations in either of their movements. Midorima capitalizes on the movements Takao makes, the openings he creates, trusts his instincts. Trusts him.   
  
It’s the first time he’s ever felt it so certainly and surely in the drift, the first time he can truly feel complete trust between them as they fight.   
  
Something has never felt so right.   
  
When they’re done and Takao looks at Midorima, catches the smile on his lips, everything falls into place. The feelings he’s always written off as admiration or respect, the burn in his chest whenever he looks at Midorima that he’s always told himself was nothing more than the desire to make him finally see him, all rush forward in that one instant, ready to burst from his chest.   
  
He trusts Midorima. He wants to stay by Midorima’s side.   
  
He loves Midorima.   
  
Takao smiles back. “So, Shin-chan… think it’s fate that you got me as a partner?”  
  
“Takao, you’re a fool.” The smile doesn’t leave Midorima’s lips, though.   
  
.

  
  
Still breathless and filled with adrenaline rushing through him, with everything he thinks he knows pounding in his head, Takao yanks Midorima into a secluded hallway of the Shatterdome while they walk back to their room. He pulls him down into a kiss that says everything it needs to without stumbling through awkward confessions just yet.   
  
_Thank you._  
  
_Thank you for staying._  
  
_I’m glad you’re here._  
  
_I’m glad you’re my partner._

 

…

  
  
“I used to want to surpass you,” Takao says one day as if Midorima doesn’t already know it, as they sit so close together on the floor of their room that their shoulders are brushing.   
  
“I already know that, you fool,” Midorima supplies without bite, does not move away from the close proximity between them.   
  
“And then you became my partner. Way to ruin all of the plans I had for glory, Shin-chan.” He lays down on the floor, smiling at his own joke while Midorima shifts slightly to look at him.   
  
“Last time I checked, drift compatibility runs two ways, Takao. For all you know, you could have ruined my plans for early retirement.”   
  
“Nineteen on the outside, old man at heart, I knew it.” Takao laughs, but does not miss the beginnings of the smile on Midorima’s lips despite him still trying to hide it.   
  
“You’re insufferable.”   
  
“Liar. You love me.”   
  
“Don’t be ridiculous.”   
  
“There are no secrets in the drift, Shin-chan,” Takao says in a voice that’s a near perfect imitation of one of his instructor's from his days back in the Academy.   
  
Midorima actually smiles and laughs at that. Takao considers it a victory.   
  
“You did it, you know.”   
  
“What?” Takao asks, suddenly confused by the sudden turn this conversation has taken after a few moments of comfortable silence.   
  
“You wanted me to recognize you, right? To acknowledge you?” He says it like a question, even though he already knows, even though he’s seen it all. “Well, I do.”   
  
Takao smiles, grabs Midorima’s shirt and pulls him down. They meet halfway in a kiss, and even now he can’t quite remember when exactly Midorima transformed from a goal to a friend to a part of Takao he can’t imagine living without.   
  
“How could you not? I  _am_  pretty awesome, Shin-chan. It was only a matter of time until you realized it, too.”   
  
Takao, of course, can’t fully speak for Midorima, but he can’t imagine after years of everything, of fighting and surviving together, that there could be anything  _but_  this. He can’t imagine knowing and understanding anyone else on this level, can’t imagine loving so passionately, existing in whatever universe they’ve built together with anyone but Midorima.   
  
“Every time I think I might like you, you ruin it. Most of the time by simply talking.”   
  
“You wound me!” He laughs, kisses Midorima again when the other’s hand cups his cheek.   
  
The alarm signaling another kaiju attack blares loudly throughout the Shatterdome, the voice over the intercom calling for them to prepare for launch cuts through their moment of bliss.   
  
Midorima doesn’t move for a moment, but soon stands, holding out a hand for Takao.  
  
Takao takes it.   
  
_He always takes it._  
  
“Let’s go, Takao.”   
  
He smiles when he stands, brushing against Midorima’s side as they walk toward their next battle. Together.   
  
“Yeah.” 


End file.
